A vigilante
by Niksix
Summary: Would you accept oppression or would you contest it? Would you sit back and receive the blows or would you fight back? Would you allow your family to be killed or would you kill the oppressors first?


**Hey peoples. This character was largely inspired by 'Dexter'. A horrific T.V. show that I do NOT recommend you see. Very dark. This character is (hopefully) going to be in Vividly Visceral's story 'The Torture Games'. Enjoy. **

**P.S: If you want real suspense whilst reading look this up on youtube and listen to it while you are reading this: '01 Opening – Dexter's Theme' or '24 Blood Theme'.**

It's a nice night. The street's quiet. Yet even at this ungodly hour, there are a few people still loitering in the street. There's a pair of young teens, staggering down the street, clearly drunk, an older woman, in her forties maybe, trying to make an illegitimate living, and a rather large, robust man in a suit, also drunk, attempting to sort out pay for the older woman. That's him. That's the target. Montgomery Greco; capitol official in charge of public relations, but he's more of a spin doctor of propaganda. Now to wait for the opportunity. I turn on the air con in my car, making sure the car is toasty warm, compared to the freezing chill outside. I watch in the rear view mirror as the man is rejected and starts to stagger up the street, towards my car. My heart begins to race, and I shiver with excitement, but I make sure no emotion registers on my face. The face can give it all away in a millisecond. As the man draws level with my car, I lean over and yell: "Sir!" The man jumps and swings around, searching for the source of the voice. He sees me and comes to my passenger door, sticking his head in. He smells badly of vomit and vodka, but even that won't make me balk at an opportunity like this. "Need a lift?" He considers for a moment, his head swaying with the breeze. "Why, that's very kind of you young man." He slurs, as he opens the car door and slumps into the seat. I smile briefly and nod. "Where to?" I ask as we pull out of the street, already knowing the answer he'll give. "My house at 1440, Alpine Drive." I nod. As we pass through the capitol's eerily quiet centre, I take a moment to study the man. He is quite round, with a sagging, pale face that has clearly been altered to try and make him appear younger. Pathetic really, since all it achieved was making him uglier than before. He has small, pudgy hands which constantly shake giving the image of cowardice. A typical capitol official who enjoys living the high life. I swallow my disgust, making sure I play the part of helpful stranger. I focus on the road, at the moving scenery. I love the capitol at night. Its large skyscrapers, glittering like stars against the starless sky, its lampposts beaming light, safety and hope, so beautiful. But I'm not interested in those things tonight. I'm looking for the dark; the things that can happen, the things that can remain hidden and the lovely secrecy. The target interrupts my thoughts. "The New Year celebrations are always the best aren't they?"

"They sure are." I hide my repulsion and give a smile.

"What did you do for the celebrations?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Nothing much." In truth I was planning meticulously, for this very moment.

"I went to the official's ball." He puffs up with pride.

"Are you an official?" Acting shocked is one of the easier emotions to portray.

"Yup. Had waaaaay too many drinks." He sniggers.

"Well, I guess one more won't hurt then." I say as I pull out two beers, handing him one.

"Aaaw I don't know." He is pretending to be polite. Something that Capitol officials are incapable of being.

"Come on." I say cheerfully. "Here's to the New Year!" I raise my beer with one hand. The man opens his beer with a quick twist.

"And may there be many more to come!" He yells. We both down a few gulps. I put my beer down, pull out a syringe with one hand and inject myself. The man looks at me quizzically. I smile, chuckle and say "Don't worry it's just the antidote." He looks at me confused and shocked as he begins to sweat and breathe heavily. I continue talking.

"It was quite easy to get the poison into the bottles. Didn't you notice how easily the lids came off?" The man's eyes grow wide with fear. "P-Poison?" he manages to gasp, clutching his chest in agony.

"Don't worry, it won't kill you. I'm much more adept at doing that. This is designed to hurt you like hell before slipping into unconsciousness." I see his eyelids begin to droop.

"You're right. Let's continue this discussion later." I say as I watch him collapse into the back of his chair. I drive down a road leading to the new building area. The capitol decided they needed a new business area, so decided to fund a whole new block for construction. Quiet enough to concentrate, deserted enough so that no one will hear screams, and enough time to work before the builders get back. Perfect for my purposes. I park near the half-constructed, new Parliament centre. I had been laying down the plastic throughout the building today, coating the walls, floor, and ceiling in thick plastic sheets. I do this every time, before I start my work. Any sign of having been here would aid the police greatly in capturing me. I enter the building through the new door, and make my way past all the empty, half-built rooms until I come to the room I have prepared. After laying down the plastic sheets, I had set some chains hanging from the roof, and then set up portable floodlights around the room, all aimed at the chains. I walk to the corner of the room where I had placed my strongbox full of equipment. Inside are cable ties padlocks, plastic sheets, scissors, a body bag and a smaller box full of different, labeled syringes with different colored liquids in them. I grab the cable ties and return to my car. The target is in a dream of hallucinations, fear and pain. I had given him a diluted form of tracker jacker venom which will last a few more minutes. I tie his hands and feet extremely tight with the cable ties and drag him out of the car, by his feet. Once he is inside the room, I padlock his wrists to the chains hanging from the ceiling, which are so high up, that he is off the ground. I just finish pulling on my white rubber gloves when I hear a groan.

"Wakey, wakey Mr. Greco." I croon. I turn to see him come to, with a start. He looks around bewilderingly, and after getting accustomed to the light, focuses on me. "What are you doing? Why are you doing this to me?" he cries in-between sobs.

"Well, Monty, it's simple. You see, I come from a small family in district 3. We, like many families, were poor, underfed and overworked." I make my way over to the box full of syringes and start to rummage through it. "I remember questioning my parents 'Why does the capitol hate us?' They never really understood themselves, so they always gave contradicting answers. But one constant answer they gave was 'Never fight back. Just accept that this is the way it is.'" I grab a syringe titled 'warm up'.

"Throughout my schooling, I was bullied a lot for my interest in medicine. I wanted to live in district 6." I stab the syringe into the target's arm. He howls in agony. "I put up with it, because I had been blueprinted to accept oppression." The target starts to calm down. I grab another syringe with yellow liquid labeled 'Fire'.

"I started imagining ways to stop my attackers. Vengeance. I wanted to use my knowledge of medicine to hurt them like they hurt me." I stab again. He screams and writhes around, the liquid telling his nervous system that he is on fire. I feel like my hunger is being satiated. But the more I feed the hunger, the bigger it grows.

"One day, after a painful day at school I decided I would fight back just once. I made my own concoction that would cause immense amounts of pain. I planned for months, a habit I still have to this day. I made sure he would be alone, at a time where no one would interrupt." The target stopped screaming, and started whimpering. Experience tells me I have to give his nervous system a rest, otherwise the poisons will burn the nerves out and he won't feel pain anymore. And that would be tragic. I'll give him a minute.

"It all worked like a charm. He was in the gym alone; I came up behind him and inserted the needle into his neck. But I forgot one important factor: his screams. As soon as he started screaming, I knew someone would come. In the heat of the moment, I broke his neck. I waited for the teachers to come, to take me away to the peacekeepers for justice. No-one came. I set fire to the gym, by dousing him in petrol, then lighting him. That was my first kill." Minute's up. Time to crank up the pain.

"I became addicted to finding oppressors and murdering them. It wasn't the murder I liked, but the planning, observing and organizing of the crimes to ensure I wouldn't leave a trace. This is what I did with you." I go back to the box.

"I've been stalking you for over a month now, getting people to confide in me about your habits, learning your routine, and right down to planning this night. I knew from your habits that this was to be quite a wild night for you. I made sure you would end up going towards my car, by paying off the hooker to reject you. Do you know where we are? It's to be the new parliament centre. I prepared this place in advance for your arrival. Observe the plastic sheets." I grab a needle labeled 'Phantom Limb'.

"You Mr. Greco, are enabling oppression. You are just a big..." I stab the needle in his left leg. "bully." He screams in pain as his nervous system tells him that his leg has just been cut off. I close my eyes and smile as I hear the screams, happy in the knowledge that no-one will hear him. I open my eyes and what I see makes me freeze in terror.

Apparently I jammed the needle in too forcefully, for blood has started to drop onto the floor. Nothing major. Just a few small drops, but I can't look at it. I spin around and run to my box, grabbing the needle labeled 'death'. I put my head up high, avoiding looking at the blood, and walk swiftly over to my still screaming target.

"You're lucky Mr. Greco" I say as I position the needle near his neck. He sees the label and breathes a sigh of relief. "Shame really. I was just getting started." I shove the needle into his neck, and with a shudder, Montgomery Greco breathes his last. I have to hurry. I only have around 4 minutes before I faint. I can't faint here, it'll be hours before I wake up and by then someone could have come across the crime scene. I hurriedly take the corpse from the chains whilst images of blood flash before my eyes. I feel sick. I grab the body bag and shove the corpse in. I rip the plastic off the room, and shove it into my box. Scenes of me lying in a pool of my own blood haunt my mind as I throw my strongbox and body bag into the boot of my car. All of a sudden blood is pouring like rain onto me and my car. The hallucinations have started. Only around 2 minutes left. I jump in my car and screech out of the new business area. I race through the city, my windscreen wipers wiping furiously at the blood that only I can see. I screech to a halt in the garage of my building. No time to dispose of the body. I have to get to my apartment. My footsteps leave a blood trail behind me, but I keep telling myself it's not real. I hurry through the door into the Lobby.

"Hal!" I shudder as I hear my name and turn to see my landlady, hobbling over to me. Mrs. Dukes. I can't talk now. "Hey Mrs. Dukes." I say with a smile.

"I just made some macadamia nut cookies for you." She beckons me to come over. I don't have time for this. I look at my watch. Around 45 seconds left.

"Why did you do that Mrs. Dukes?"

"For being such a kind, helpful young gentleman. You're always helping me with my shopping and opening the door for people, I thought it was time you were rewarded." Not now. My agitation is getting the better of me.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Dukes, maybe another time." I say as politely as I can manage. Hopefully that'll be enough to shut her up. "Are you sure Hal?"

"Yes, yes you share them with your husband; I know how much he likes them. You have a goodnight." She looks a little hurt, but replies "Bye Hal."

I start to walk away, and once out of sight, start sprinting for the stairs. I look at my watch; 12 seconds left. I race up the stairs to my room, burst in, slam the door behind me and collapse onto the couch as I start to lose consciousness. Tonight wasn't as good as I hoped it would be. Aw well. There'll be another time. And it'll happen again and again. It has to happen. It's a nice night.

**Well, that turned out a little darker than expected. Review if you liked, tell me what you think. I want to hear what you think of this paradoxical character. Do you agree with his goal? Do you agree with his methods? Tell me. And also tell me if there is anything wrong with the way I write (sentence structure, description, use of emotive language, grammar mistakes). Thanks.**

**NK**


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